Cuffed
by The-Jellybaby-Bandit
Summary: Kurt knew leaving would be hard. Just how hard however even Kurt hadn't considered. My usual brand of romance-laden Puckurt. S2 Spoilers: Set immediately after 'Furt'. Rated M for language.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own rights to any of the characters from Glee. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

**A/N: A big hello to all my faithful followers and again my apologies for being so scarce in recent months. I do have an excuse though. Puckurt is insidious. It gets inside you. Twists you up. You forget to shower, speak to your friends, go to work etc. I worked non-stop on two epic fics (plus random diversions) for close to six months without a break. I burned out. Now I'm back however, not writing as often as I used to or as prolifically but hopefully you'll forgive me that.**

**Anyways, this is just a new ficlet that I've worked on since the turn of the year. I have more available to publish if the response is favourable, I just wanted to test the waters as it were.**

**Season Two Spoilers abound in this story, you have been warned.**

**Laddies and Gentlefolk, I give you,**

"**Cuffed"** **by The Jellybaby Bandit**

* * *

The Choir Room door swung shut with a soft click behind Kurt as he fled following his shock announcement, the assembled members of the Glee Club meanwhile had been stunned into silence.

"Kurt's leaving?", asked Brittany, the only one in the room not looking shell shocked, "... when will he be back?"

All eyes turned to examine the nonplussed blonde as Brittany twirled her hair and though she looked a little concerned, it was clear she did not comprehend Kurt's announcement and it's enormity.

"I think he's leaving forever...", muttered Santana, her usual snide tone missing and for once sounding like a human being.

Several seconds passed with each of the Gleeks just standing immobile, with none sure exactly how they should be reacting in their shock. The silence was pierced however by the most unlikely of sources.

"Like Hell he is..."

Head's snapped to attention and an entire room of incredulous stares tracked Puck as the jock stood and pushed his chair away with a squeak. Before anyone could react to try to stop him, the half-back had crossed the room and exited through the same door Kurt had just left by.

In their shock, nobody followed.

* * *

Kurt was struggling to maintain his composure as he emptied his locker. The soprano sniffled as he lifted out each individual object, pausing to appreciate how each had it's own memory attached. Biting his bottom lip to keep himself from breaking down entirely - Kurt couldn't afford to do that until he was safely ensconced in his room at home - the brunette realised that he was quite literally emptying his locker of his entire life.

'_My whole school life in one bag... it's better that it's over though...'_

Kurt carefully peeled the myriad of magazine clippings and photos of him and Mercedes from the inside of his locker door. There was no doubting that Kurt was going to miss being at McKinley, at least in some aspects. The soprano had established so many friendships here in recent years, he'd experienced new things and yes, he was going to miss it all.

It was difficult Kurt to imagine going to a school that didn't have Mercedes there to be his BFF, that didn't have Glee club, that didn't have Karofsky hounding his every waking moment.

But his Dad had been right. McKinley High - such as it was - just wasn't safe anymore and it was now beyond the point where Kurt could pretend otherwise. He'd spent months pretending otherwise.

Carefully sliding the precious mementos of days gone by into his satchel, Kurt picked up his geometry textbook. The soprano was just about to slip this too into his satchel as his ears pricked up at the sound of sneakers squeaking on the floor behind him. Kurt's shoulders tensed. He should have known better than to think he'd get out of the building without at least one tearful goodbye. Sometimes it sucked having such caring friends, it really did.

"Please 'cedes...", there was a world-weariness in Kurt's tone of voice as he kept his eyes focused on the back of his locker, afraid to face the girl, lest he lose what little control he maintained on his emotions, "... I know you want me to change my mind - but... but you have to just trust me that this is for the best."

"Bullshit"

Kurt squeaked in shock and pirouetted quickly, his geometry textbook spilling from his hands and crashing to the floor. The soprano stood slack-jawed as the spine of the book lost it's battle with the hard tile floor and the myriad of pages within spread themselves out over the width of the hallway.

* * *

Puck was angry.

The jock had no idea quite why he was angry - but he was and Puck tended to be ruled by his emotions - if he was hungry he ate, if he was horny he had sex, if he was angry he hit something or someone. Hey, nobody had ever said that Puck was a considered thinker.

Puck had watched Kurt's eyes as the soprano had made his shock announcement and what he saw just made him angry. Puck was a badass - had always been a badass - and yes it was true that nobody messed with Puckzilla unless they had a death wish. But the jock had always thought of Kurt Hummel, as much as he was loath to admit it, as someone even more badass than him.

Since Puck had first laid eyes on an ten-year old Kurt Hummel, the half-back had been in no doubt that the soprano was a hell of a lot tougher than he looked. The fashion-obsessed brunette had always been treated badly by everyone around him - boys, girls, teachers - and most especially by the jock himself much to his shame.

Since the pair had struck up their truce however, Puck had taken some time to consider exactly what it was about Hummel that made the jock want to victimise him. Puck didn't think it was because the smaller boy was gay - Puck's Uncle on his Mother's side was gay and he was a stand-up dude, despite his love of cock - nah, it wasn't the gay thing. And it wasn't Kurt's feminine persona or the way he wore fancy clothes and looked down his nose at ordinary people.

It had taken many countless hours of thought, but he'd finally hit the nail on the head. If pushed, Puck would have to say it was because no matter what had been thrown at Hummel, the brunette had always dusted himself down and carried on. It was the sense of this unbreakable dignity with which Hummel carried himself that made Puck sit up and take notice, and by extension was what painted a giant target on the soprano's back for those who wished him ill will.

And now - now he was what? Suddenly afraid to continue on in the same way he had been for _years_. Something stank about the whole deal and it was that, that rankled with Puck. Karofsky was a big guy certainly but he was a pussy really when you compared his best to all of the shit that Kurt had been through. If Kurt could take the best that Puckzilla could dish out and keep on going with his head held high, then there was just no way in hell that Karofsky could do any worse.

* * *

"Uh - Puck...", stammered the soprano as he crouched down and began to scoop up handfuls of his papers and began to stack them into a pile, "... w-what do you want?"

Crouching down beside Kurt, the jock began to help the smaller boy to gather up his papers, noting clearly the look of surprise on Kurt's face at the unusually charitable gesture.

"What?...", snapped Puck suddenly feeling self-conscious at being examined so closely by the smaller boy, "... I'm supposed to just watch you struggle to pick them all up by yourself? I may be a badass but I'm not an asshole... most of the time..."

Puck watched as Kurt at first seemed to be scared of the jock before with his final pronouncement the soprano relaxed some. That didn't mean that Puck's anger at the brunette was lessened any though, the jock still intended to give Kurt both barrels for being such a pussy.

"Thank you..."

Puck however was not listening as his eyes had drifted to something which must have been piled on top of the textbook and which had clearly fallen at Kurt's feet.

_'Now that's a surprise...'_

Picking the item up, Puck swung it around on his index finger, the shiny metal drawing Kurt's eye to it in an instant. The jock smirked as he saw Kurt pale dramatically before his blush then overtook him a moment later.

"Why Hummel...", drawled Puck unable to keep the amused smile off of his face, "... handcuffs? And pink fuzzy handcuffs at that... I didn't think you had it in you, you're more like me than I first thought..."

* * *

Kurt could feel the heat radiating from his face as he stared in horror at the handcuffs in Puck's hands. They had been a gag gift from 'cedes at Christmas, and rather than take them home and risk his Dad finding them and getting the wrong idea, Kurt had stored them in his locker - on top of his Geometry book it appeared.

"Uh...", words failed the soprano as he tried to find some way to justify his ownership of such a provocative item- present from 'cedes or not they were completely out of the soprano's comfort zone.

"I have to say, I didn't figure you for the kinky type Hummel...", grinned Puck as he continued to spin the cuffs on the end of his finger, "... Hell you've probably never even kissed a guy have ya..."

Despite his embarrassment, Kurt could feel his ire rising at the jock's taunting, the soprano's nerves were already frayed and the half-back was not making things any easier. Before the soprano could get a proper hold on himself, his mouth was open and sounds had issued forth - sounds that Kurt wished had been nonsensical come the end of his sentence a moment later,

"I have too..."

_'Oh no...'_

Kurt ducked his head while Puck raised a single eyebrow in surprise at the vehement response and his grin turned predatory.

"Been sleeping around on me Hummel? So who's the lucky chick, I mean guy-chick or whatever..."

Kurt rolled his eyes at the Neanderthal jock and snatched back the rest of his notes from the jock's hand, stuffing them angrily into his satchel. The brunette had too much on his plate right now to add Puck harassing him into the mix. Kurt felt like he was paper thin at that moment and that just one more knock would lead to his tearing into itty-bitty pieces.

"Screw you Puck...", spat the soprano closing his satchel and standing back up once again.

"You couldn't handle it Hummel...", said the jock seemingly nonplussed about the almost instantaneous switch in the dynamic of the conversation between teasing and hostility.

Kurt scoffed at the jock and wrinkled his nose in disgust at the image his mind just offered him- an image that the soprano could have done without,

"I wouldn't want to 'handle it' - there's no telling what I might catch. Now leave me the Hell alone."

Kurt angrily hitched his satchel up onto his shoulder and slammed his locker door shut with a loud clang.

_'Just walk out Kurt... things will get better as soon as you do...'_

The soprano shouldered past Puck, ignoring the pain that flared in his shoulder as the half-back was apparently made out of granite. Kurt was about to stride away when he felt something snap around his wrist with a loud 'click' that echoed in the empty hallway.

'_What the Hell?'_

Looking down at his right wrist, Kurt's jaw dropped in shock which was quickly followed by anger.

Turning to level his best glare at the jock, Kurt's eyes widened in horror to see Puck slipping the other end of the handcuffs around his own wrist.

"I'm not letting you slink out of here like a pussy..", said the jock snapping the cuff shut with a loud click and glaring at the smaller boy in apparent invitation for him to try to defy him.

Kurt saw red. Months of pent up anger and pain and humiliation came bubbling to the surface as the brunette allowed Puck to see just a fraction of the wrath he could inflict should he wish.

"What the Hell is your problem? Are you mentally deficient? Did your Mother drink during her pregnancy? Did she drop you on your head as a baby? You complete utter mohawked simpleton..."

* * *

Puck had figured Hummel would be shocked sure, and angry that was a given, but the jock was truly surprised at the sheer level of the soprano's guttural rage. It was symptomatic of just how much Hummel wasn't acting like, well Hummel.

"Calm down Hummel...", said Puck smirking at the boy though he knew it would probably only make things worse, "... as soon as you agree to stay at McKinley I'll unlock you."

Puck's wrist was pulled away from his side and up towards his chest as Kurt tried to smack him with his own trapped hand, only the half-back's superior arm strength prevented that from coming to pass.

"You complete _moron_...", the fire that the jock had ignited in Kurt's belly was clearly still thriving, "... there are no _keys_ for those cuffs..."

Puck paused.

_'No keys?... Crap...'_

The jock was unable to form a substantive response however as Kurt was still launching upon a tirade,

"And another thing, in case you haven't noticed, where I go and why is none of your business. I'm not slinking anywhere, I'm transferring. It happens all the time! I don't remember you handcuffing yourself to Matt when he left!"

Puck shook his head as he took a shot back at the soprano, it was about time Hummel realised he wasn't going to get things all his own way. It pleased the jock in a way to see that the fire in the smaller boy hadn't been extinguished completely though, passion had always been one of the brunette's best features.

_'What the Hell was that about Puck? You're thinking like a chick... Focus for God's sake...'_

"You aren't transferring, you're running away. And Matt was a douche and I was glad to see him go. You however, I don't mind so much.. and watch your tongue Hummel - even one handed I can still pound your face..."

"Way to win me over Puck, threaten to hit me...and you wonder why I'm leaving...", snapped Kurt as he rolled his eyes and glared at the half-back.

Puck sighed and moved to run his hand through his mohawk, only to realise he couldn't as he was - well attached to Hummel.

_'This has gotten way out of hand... how the hell did this end up so out of hand?...'_

The jock had no idea why he'd handcuffed himself to Hummel. The soprano had been making to walk away, the jock wasn't finished with him yet and the cuffs were in his hand. No that wasn't true, Puck did know why he'd handcuffed himself to Hummel, he'd thought there were keys and that if things went south, as judging from the irate expression on Kurt's face they clearly had, that he'd be able to walk away.

And now, dammit there weren't any keys and nothing short of a hacksaw was going to break the cuffs and Hummel was angry and _damn_ if the boy wasn't scary when he was angry.

Not that Puck would admit that to anyone of course.

* * *

Kurt was at a loss for what to do. The brunette had been all set to leave McKinley High forever. He'd said his goodbyes, he'd picked up his transcripts and he'd emptied his locker. All that was left was to walk to the end of the hallway and out through the large double doors.

And yet, now the soprano found himself standing in a deserted hallway with Noah Puckerman of all people, handcuffed to him and with no immediate way of getting away.

The anger which had been powering the soprano bled away as his exhaustion with life again took it's toll. It was all just too much to deal with and despite Blaine's 'Courage' texts, Kurt just wanted it all to be over already.

"Please Puck...", said Kurt as his shoulders slumped in defeat, "... just lets find a way out of these cuffs, I can leave you and you can go back to fucking whatever geriatric you have on speed-dial this week - _please_?"

* * *

Puck watched in silence as Kurt seemed to shrink in on himself as the despair grabbed hold. It wasn't like the jock to consider being compassionate and under any other circumstances Puck would have smacked Kurt down for his slanderous statement - he did not fuck geriatrics - well not recently.

But, none of this was what the half-back had intended, Puck had wanted to offer to help Kurt and to convince him to give McKinley another chance, not to drive him even further away.

'_Dammit Puckerman you're screwing this up...'_

Puck would maintain to his dying day that he wanted Kurt to stay because Glee club needed him. The truth was though, it just wouldn't be the same without Kurt at McKinley, with his prissy attitude and his pretty clothes. Puck would actually miss the soprano if he were to leave.

But as much as Puck might have wanted to help Kurt, he couldn't look this gift horse in the mouth. Here he was, on a Friday afternoon, with Kurt Hummel literally unable to get away from him. If he could just persuade him...

"I'll make you a deal Hummel..."

Kurt looked up from where he'd been studying the cracks in the floor tiles to meet the jock's eyes.

"A deal?", Kurt's voice was tired and the sigh the soprano released was full of despondency.

"It's Friday and you what - start at your new school on Monday?...", said Puck, quickly running through the hastily constructed plan in his head looking for flaws.

"Tuesday morning actually...", replied Kurt softly, clearly beyond the point of caring anymore what happened.

Puck nodded in response as he worded his entreaty,

"Alright... you give me til Monday night to convince you not to leave McKinley. If I can't do it, then we'll go get the cuffs cut and you can go join your boyband boyfriend at Gayton..."

"Dalton...", corrected Kurt automatically before he caught on to the fact that he was being teased, by Puck, it was a strange feeling.

Under any other circumstances, Puck would have crossed his arms at that point and looked smug - his plan was actually pretty good. The jock was almost certain that 48 hours in the company of Puckzilla would be more than enough to convince Kurt not to leave for Gayton.

And if it wasn't well, screw Hummel and the horse he rode...

_'Heh...'_, the jock chuckled at his own wordplay recalling that internet video he'd seen once with the guy and the horse. Now that had been disgusting.

_'Funny though...'_

* * *

Kurt's initial reaction was, well frankly it was to break down in tears, but the soprano _really_ didn't want to do that in front of Puck of all people.

Kurt's second reaction was to shout and scream at Puck and call him more names. But he was just so tired and it really wouldn't serve any purpose other than to make the brunette feel better in the short term.

Could he do it? Could he really spend an entire weekend shackled to Noah Puckerman? It helped somewhat that his Dad and Carole had left that morning for Maine, on a mini-honeymoon, the bulk of their savings having gone to Dalton to enrol him.

Finn thankfully was also not going to be around that weekend. What with the parents out of town, the Quarterback had stated that morning that he'd be staying with Rachel and not to expect to see him until Monday at school.

_'Guess that won't happen now either...'_

Kurt's musings were brought short by Puck's impatient snort.

_'I can do it... if only to make him give up...'_

"I have some conditions...", said Kurt meeting Puck's gaze steadily.

"Name them dude...", replied Puck his expression one of surprise.

It was in that moment that Kurt realised that Puck had not expected that he'd say yes. Or that he'd even consider it.

Truth be told Kurt himself didn't know why he was considering it.

'_Does a part of me want to be convinced to stay?'_

"One: Don't call me 'dude' this sure as Hell isn't The Big Lebowski - if we're going to be shackled together for the weekend, then I'm Kurt and you're Noah."

Though the jock clearly looked unhappy at the thought, after a few seconds the jock capitulated with a terse nod,

"Done. What else?"

"I'm in charge...", said Kurt with an edge to his voice letting the jock know that the point was not up for debate as Puck opened his mouth to protest, "... You shackled yourself to me, therefore my schedule for this weekend overrides yours. What I say goes."

"Done...", said Puck though this time through somewhat gritted teeth, "... what else?"

"No being, well - _you_...", said Kurt finding himself incapable of explaining any more succinctly, "... no belching, breaking wind or general other gross misconduct."

Though Puck clearly looked offended at the soprano's rather harsh estimation of him, the jock nodded once again,

"Done."

Kurt nodded seemingly pleased to have at least asserted some control over the situation.

"Alright then."

* * *

Not for the first time, Humm - _Kurt's_ - reaction had surprised Puck. The jock had expected Kurt to hit him, to scream at him and to demand that they went immediately to find a hacksaw to separate them.

True, Puck had no plans for the weekend so being attached to the smaller boy wouldn't exactly be a problem in that sense, but the jock had never for a second imagined that Kurt would actually consent.

'_Now what happens?...'_

And that was the big problem. Puck's plan had sort of - well - run out at the whole 'handcuffed til Monday' bit. The jock hadn't a clue exactly _how_ he was supposed to convince Kurt to stay at McKinley.

'_You've done it now Puckerman...'_

* * *

"OK... let's go home I guess...", sighed Kurt heaving his overloaded satchel onto his shoulder wincing as the strap bit into his flesh.

Turning to head in the direction of the parking lot, the brunette was shocked when his satchel was lifted from his shoulder.

"Puck - I mean Noah - what?...", asked the brunette as he watched the jock slip the strap over his own shoulder with ease.

"Shut up and walk _Kurt_..."

* * *

**A/N: Well there you go. This is just a fun little ficlet that I've had running around in my head since early January, I have 15k written thus far and I don't see the story in it's entirety being more than 30k. It's taken a little while to get things down on paper but I'm having fun with it. Please let me know if you like the story and if you'd like to read anymore. Or if you have a suggestion for a fic, I'm happy to adopt bunnies.**

**PLEASE REVIEW, EVERYTIME YOU REVIEW A FAIRY COMES TO LIFE, IT'S MAGIC! XD  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own rights to any of the characters from Glee. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter, I'm gratified to see that people actually bothered to read given my extended absence. Anyways, this is going to be a pretty short story (but then that's me talking and I rarely write a story less than 100k words), it's also going to be more romance oriented I think and it most likely won't include any graphic slash.**

**Season Two Spoilers abound in this story, you have been warned.**

**"Cuffed"** **by The Jellybaby Bandit **

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Kurt realised as he stood by the Navigator that reaching the parking lot while cuffed to another person was the easy part. The soprano creased his brow and tapped the key in his free hand against his thigh while he tried to figure out exactly _how_ he was supposed to drive home.

'_Forget__ driving, how do I get in?'_

"OK...", muttered the brunette to himself as he puzzled out the logistics in his head.

* * *

Puck meanwhile was staring in awe at the large black car. The jock of course, knew that Kurt had a car and that he had on occasion referred to it as 'his baby' – that and something about tiara's but the half-back had tuned out by that point so he wasn't completely sure what that was all about.

Puck had thought that Kurt would drive a small stylish compact – well, a chick car frankly – so to see him driving such a big car, and American too, not fancy French or Italian or whatever to match his no doubt expensive wardrobe was a definite surprise. Plus it was just a damn nice car.

"Cool ride du...", Puck paused for a second as Kurt threw the jock a dangerous glare and quickly rephrased the rest of his sentence, "... uh Kurt..."

* * *

"I know...", said Kurt enjoying the jock's capitulation perhaps a little more than he should, "... but how do we get in?"

Kurt scowled as Puck just shrugged and offered no constructive assistance whatsoever. It took a few seconds before the soprano slapped himself mentally, what exactly was he expecting? After all, this was Noah Puckerman they were talking about. Kurt would have to be mentally ill to expect actual helpfulness out of someone who thought that handcuffing themselves to another person was a legitimate way to win an argument.

_'Idiot...'_

Letting out a sigh of exasperation Kurt let go of his momentary annoyance with Puck's unhelpfulness and dragged the heavier boy over to the passenger door. Not happy about how crawling across the interior of the Navigator was going to wrinkle his pristine outfit, Kurt grimaced as he pulled the heavy door open.

Clambering in sideways, the brunette shuffled crablike across the centre console and deposited himself - with little effort as it happened – into the driver's seat. Not having any choice in the matter, Puck was left to follow close behind and ended up in the passenger seat, though his arm was held out to the side at a strange angle like some kind of weird salute.

Putting the key into the ignition, Kurt brought the Navigator to life, the stereo kicking in almost immediately playing the last track on the CD he'd thrown in during his journey to school earlier that morning,

_"Jeans all black_  
_Hair slicked back_  
_Baseball cap_  
_Still cute in my open toes_

_Mini skirt_  
_Feet don't hurt_  
_Just a flirt_  
_Too cute in my open toes_

_Work or play_  
_Night or day_  
_Do my thing_  
_Too cute in my open toes_  
_Never too many open toes_  
_A girl needs plenty open toes..."_

* * *

"Dude turn that crap off...", moaned Puck as he reached first to plug his ears with his fingers before realising that he couldn't before the jock switched and reached outwards towards the volume dial with his free hand.

"Hand's off my baby Puckerman...", growled Kurt in warning as he put the car into reverse and backed out of his space. As a small concession though the soprano did actually turn the volume down slightly as it was hurting his own ears too.

The Navigator pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway as Puck drummed his fingers, already bored and deciding that riling up Kurt was probably the best entertainment the jock would find at that moment.

"Defensive much..."

Puck's smirk returned as he repeatedly taunted the brunette by reaching for the dial before withdrawing his hand at the last second, "... think I'll contaminate your - hey, what's the gay for 'pussy wagon'?"

Puck chuckled as Kurt rolled his eyes and flicked the half-back off as they turned a corner, earning an irate look from the car alongside whose driver obviously assumed that the gesture was for him.

"You're a pig Puckerman...", said the soprano as he tried his best to ignore the jock's childish antics, "... but then you know that right?"

* * *

As the Navigator had pulled out onto the main highway, Kurt had tried to ignore the strange feeling that had been gnawing at his gut ever since he'd agreed to this _insanity. _Intellectually of course, Kurt knew that leaving McKinley was the right move.

The soprano had tried to ignore the actions of his tormentor for months now. Kurt had had picked himself up and dusted himself off and painted on a fixed and happy smile time and time again. But rather than make his tormentor, and for tormentor Kurt meant Dave Karofsky there was no point sugar-coating it, get bored with his lack of reaction and pick a new target, the abuse had only gotten progressively worse and worse.

And then there was the whole thing with the kiss – something that Kurt just didn't want to think about.

No. In the end it all boiled down to one simple and undeniable fact. That outside of a few well meaning individuals such as Mr Schue and – strange as it was to even consider it – Coach Sylvester, nobody at McKinley, the school board especially, seemed to care enough about Kurt's welfare to actually make the bullying stop.

True, Kurt's entire life had revolved around his friends, his school and of course, Glee. And yes, it was a lot to give up, no matter how bad the victimisation had become but Kurt really had liked the atmosphere during his 'spying mission' to Dalton. The thought of being enrolled at an institution of learning where there was a clear, zero tolerance anti-bullying policy was a major boon.

Also, Blaine being around all the time couldn't hurt.

Kurt was aware that there were bound to be adjustment issues of course, no doubt he'd be ahead in some classes and behind in others to begin with, but given time the soprano was also sure that he'd get used to being at Dalton. Given enough time being at Dalton would become the norm for him – even though he would miss terribly his friends, his school and of course, Glee.

Puck had hit the nail on the head during his earlier speech, whether intentionally or just by random chance Kurt didn't know. And as much as the soprano might have claimed at the time that he was 'simply transferring', Kurt knew that deep down in his heart he was repeating a well worn lie.

Puck had been right. Kurt_ was_ running away because he couldn't take it anymore, but could anyone really blame him for that? He was making the right decision. Right?

As the Navigator turned the final corner and the Hummel house appeared on the horizon, Kurt came to a conclusion he'd been trying to ignore for days.

He wanted for Puck to convince him that it'd be safe to stay at McKinley.

He didn't want to go.

* * *

Puck could tell that Kurt wasn't really all there, the brunette was clearly deep in thought about something. Truthfully, Puck was glad for the enduring silence it as it gave him some time to try to think of a way to convince Kurt not to leave McKinley.

_'Shoulda maybe thought of that before handcuffing myself to him...'_

Puck didn't know why, but for some reason he felt it was important that he succeed in his self-appointed task. The thought of a McKinley High without the sometimes snippy, most times sarcastic soprano, just didn't sit well with the half-back. If Puck didn't know any better he'd say that he actually _liked_ having Kurt around, not that he'd admit it to a soul of course.

* * *

The drive to Kurt's house was relatively short and was conducted entirely in silence, broken only by the sound of muttered cursing when Kurt found himself cut up or blocked by another driver.

Finally after what seemed like an age, the Navigator bumped up the curb and onto the Hummel's drive and Puck was shaken from his thoughts. The jock had been to Kurt's house before of course, he'd just never been inside.

_'I just mostly nailed garden furniture to the roof... and then there was the eggs incident... the dog poop incident... the teepee incident...'_

Speaking of the myriad of incidents, which the jock was certain that Kurt remembered vividly, Puck suddenly became worried that Kurt's Dad would be home. Or at the very least that Mrs Hudson, or Mrs Hummel, Puck figured she would be now following the wedding, would be there to run interference for him. Finn's Mom had always had a soft spot for the half-back, ever since Puck had befriended Finn by defending the docile boy against some older and meaner bullies back in Grade School. There was one thing Puck was always guaranteed when Finn's Mom was around and that was adoration oh and usually cookies...

_'That's two things stupid...'_

"Uh... Kurt?", asked the jock deciding to ignore the little voice in his head that seemed determined to berate him and instead casting a worried glance at the darkened house half-expecting to see a curtain twitch at any second, "... is your Dad, like, home?"

"Huh?... oh no - my Dad and Carole are away in Maine this weekend. It'll just be us...", replied Kurt as he pulled his key out of the ignition, "... why, scared to be alone with the homo? I'm not contagious..."

The condescension in Kurt's voice was clear to hear and it rubbed Puck the wrong way,

"Get over yourself Hummel...", snapped the jock, ignoring the momentary flash of fear that passed over Kurt's features, "... Just because Karofsky has a problem with you doesn't mean you get to judge me by the same standard."

Under normal circumstances Puck would have then chosen to make a dramatic exit and let Kurt feel sorry for himself on his own time. Unfortunately the fact that he quite liked his left hand and had various very useful things he could do with it, meant that option wasn't available to him.

So instead, Puck settled for crossing one arm over his chest and glaring the soprano into submission.

* * *

Kurt remained silent after Puck's outburst and tried to calm the panicked beating of his heart. For a moment, the brunette had honestly thought that Puck was going to strike him and he'd had flashbacks of the many attacks on his person from Karofsky over the prior months. It truly was a testament to just how shot to pieces his nerves had become that Kurt now jumped at the slightest provocation like a battered housewife.

Despite that however, Puck had actually made a valid point, Kurt couldn't keep tarring every jock with the same brush as Karofsky. Sure the half-back had been responsible for a good proportion of the poor treatment Kurt had received in years gone by, but in the year since Glee had started up, well things had changed - they'd gotten _better_.

Puck had actually shown himself not to be a completely amoral asshole for the most part, there was a soft chewy centre to the self-professed badass.

Steadying his breathing and now no longer afraid that Puck would actually harm him anymore, Kurt realised that the notion extended beyond just the current situation. In fact the jock had begun to show a surprising amount of maturity ever since the whole 'Babygate' thing the prior year. Sure Puck had lapsed obviously, when he'd driven off with that ATM and ended up in Juvie – the half-back had still not explained exactly why he'd done that – but Kurt suspected there was probably more to that story than anyone knew. Even for Puck that whole episode was completely out of character.

Sighing and also wilting under the half-back's continued glare, Kurt replied softly,

"I'm sorry... that was unfair..."

"Yes is was...", replied Puck through clenched teeth though the jock didn't push it any farther which Kurt was grateful for.

"Let's go inside...", said Kurt motioning with his free hand to the steps leading up to the porch and into the main house.

Getting out of the Navigator much as they'd gotten in, both boys wandered up the path towards the porch. Kurt giggled as he realised, that from a distance it probably looked to people that they were walking while holding hands.

"What?", asked Puck glancing down at the tittering soprano.

"Huh? Oh nothing...", dismissed the brunette though the jock was clearly not convinced.

* * *

Kurt reached into the satchel which was still on Puck's shoulder and fished out his keys before unlocking the door. Crossing the threshold, the soprano called out,

"Hello? Anyone home?"

Kurt didn't expect an answer of course, but it was a force of habit - Kurt hated surprises.

"I thought you said nobody was home?", asked the jock as he let Kurt's heavy bag drop with a thud at the foot of the stairs.

"There's not...", replied the brunette as he dragged Puck behind him in the direction of the kitchen, "... I just don't like surprises is all..."

Coughing and holding his hand over his face as they entered the kitchen Puck muttered,

"Freak..."

Kurt raised an eyebrow at the jock as Puck immediately pulled the refrigerator open and dove inside. Several seconds of silence passed with Kurt just watching the half-back unsure of what he was doing before Puck asked over his shoulder,

"Hey what gives Hummel? Where's the beer?"

Kurt rolled his eyes as he replied as if speaking to a simpleton,

"Uh... my Dad had a heart attack less than two months ago?"

Puck's head appeared from the fridge as he glanced at the soprano in apparent apology,

"Oh yeah - sorry, I forgot - how's he doing with that?"

If Kurt was surprised at the jock's surprisingly genuine inquiry the soprano's face didn't show it.

"He's doing much better, though it's easier to keep him in line by not having temptation in the way...", said Kurt gesturing into the refrigerator with his free hand, "... so no beer. There's some grapefruit juice in the jug in the door if you're thirsty."

The jock's nose wrinkled in disgust at the suggestion causing Kurt to let out a high pitched giggle. Changing the subject, Kurt suppressed his giggling as he asked,

"Hungry?...", Puck nodded emphatically reminding Kurt of a Bassett Hound with the big flappy ears, "... OK, move over..."

Kurt hip checked the soprano out of the way and quickly began pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator and setting them on the counter.

"Uh - what's wrong with ordering Pizza?", asked the jock holding up an aubergine and examining it doubtfully.

"It's processed food and I happen to like my complexion...", explained Kurt as he began picking up his chosen ingredients and passing them off to the jock, "... right, that worktop over there... mush..."

Kurt expertly herded Puck reluctantly away from the menu's pinned to the fridge with a magnet, appropriate considering who lived there in the shape of a treble clef. If the soprano had to describe the jock's expression it would be close to Mr Schue's patented 'you shot my puppy' look.

The soprano giggled again and received a huff of annoyance from Puck in return as the jock set down his load on the countertop.

Taking a moment to compose himself, Kurt tried to work out how he was going to cook with a clearly cook-averse Puck attached to his wrist.

"OK... I'm going to need your help here."

* * *

Puck didn't cook.

It was an immutable fact that the jock survived on breakfast burritos and pizza. The half-back was responsible for half the weekly takings of the local Taco Bell, and Puck didn't care how much beef was actually in their burritos, even if it _was_ all filler it still tasted good.

"Uh... I don't cook...", insisted the jock as he shook his head emphatically actually looking afraid for a second of the large gas range that Kurt was firing up.

"Nonsense...", replied Kurt as the soprano picked up a chef's hat and popped it onto Puck's head, "... there, now you look like a chef..."

Puck rolled his eyes at the brunette, but was at least a little pleased to see that Kurt seemed to be getting past the whole 'you shackled yourself to me' thing and starting to loosen up a little. If the soft smile on the smaller boy's face was any indication, then things maybe weren't as dire as the half-back had expected.

"I look like a douche...", maintained Puck though he made no move to tear the hat from his head, the less he could antagonise Kurt the better the jock figured his chances of convincing him to stay would be.

"And so what if you do?", asked Kurt gesturing around somewhat wildly with the knife that had found it's way into his hand, "... who's here to see other than me?"

'_Dude__ has a point...'_

Puck shrugged and decided to take the advice of the voice in his head. Deciding that cooperation was the name of the game, Puck resigned himself to playing along with this sudden cookery class,

"Alright then Sensei... what do I do?", asked the jock picking up a cleaver from the block in front of him and giving it an experimental swing through the air.

"Well...", answered Kurt, reaching out and plucking the deadly weapon from the jock's hands, "... you can start by peeling that onion.

* * *

Kurt Hummel was a freaking awesome cook.

"Dude...", the jock paused at Kurt's glare and swallowed his mouthful before starting again, "... Kurt this is freakin' awesome... what's it called again?"

"Moussaka, it's Greek...", replied the brunette just before popping his fork into his mouth. The pair sat side by side at the large butcher's table in the Hummel's kitchen given that they could not sit any farther apart.

"Wait...", said Puck setting his fork down and suddenly looking a little green around the gills, "... I know there's meat in it, but... it's not got _actual_ Moose in it has it?"

* * *

Kurt's melodic laughter echoed in the kitchen as he took in the half-back's worried expression.

"No Moose, I promise..."

The jock looked inordinately relieved as he picked up his discarded fork once again and began shovelling his meal into his mouth. Through a mouthful of Moussaka the soprano was able to interpret Puck's next words,

"OK cool. Well either way, you'll make some dude a great wife someday that's for sure."

Kurt decided, though he didn't really know one way or the other, to take Puck's statement as a compliment and not be offended at being referred to as someone's 'wife_'_.

'_This is still Noah Puckerman after all... I'll have to make allowances...'_

"Oh hey...", said Kurt suddenly realising he'd forgotten to mention something earlier to the jock.

Puck paused, his fork halfway to his mouth and a look of apprehension on his face,

"You lying rat bastard...", said Puck setting his fork down again, "... there is Moose isn't there..."

"What? No...", answered Kurt smirking at the relieved look that once again adorned Puck's face, "... I meant to say we could stop by your apartment if you need to pick up clothes and stuff..."

Puck shrugged and spoke around a mouthful of his meal,

"Nah, it's cool. I can live out of my bag for a week if I have to..."

The pair were interrupted a moment later as Kurt's cell, which had been sitting on the counter behind them vibrated and then went silent.

Acting on instinct, Kurt pushed himself to his feet before his brain kicked in and he remembered about the cuff on his wrist,

"Aaargghhh...", cried Puck as the jock dropped his fork and was yanked to a half standing position. The taller boy watched in helplessness as the contents of his dropped utensil splattered down the front of his pants, "... what the Hell dude?"

For once, Kurt didn't scold the jock for his use of the word 'dude', he was too busy looking apologetic,

"Uh – oops?"

Puck just looked at Kurt, who looked at Puck right back before the jock snorted and began to chuckle. Kurt's high pitched giggling joined in a moment later before Puck began to laugh outright drawing the soprano into laughing right alongside him at the absurdity of it.

Moments later, the pair shuffled in the direction of the sink where Kurt passed a damp cloth to the jock and Puck wiped down the stain on his pants leg.

Kurt meanwhile snatched up his cell and having checked the message, quickly pocketed it his smile dying away to nothing.

"That your boyfriend?", asked Puck.

Kurt glanced up and seeing Puck looking at him and expecting an answer, the soprano mumbled,

"Huh... oh, I'll answer it later."

* * *

Puck shrugged and handed the cloth back to the soprano who rinsed it out under the faucet and hung it up to dry.

"Uh... what now?", asked Puck, tapping his toe against the leg of the chair.

Kurt glanced up at the jock from where he'd been apparently deep in thought. As if shaking himself from a bad dream, the soprano glanced at the clock on the wall before a wide smile split his face.

"I know just the thing - you'll love it Noah..."

'_That can't be a good sign...'_

Kurt dragged the unresisting Puck into the den and flicked on the large flat-screen TV before sitting himself down at the end of the couch and leaving Puck with no option but to sit beside him.

As the screen flared into life, Kurt picked up the remote before getting himself more comfortable by tucking his legs under him, Indian style.

Puck watched in silence as Kurt quickly surfed from channel to channel before settling on one unfortunately familiar programme.

"Oh God no...", muttered the jock about to protest.

"What I say goes...", sang Kurt in a childish voice while stuffing the remote down the side of the couch where Puck couldn't reach it, "... remember?"

"But...", protested Puck, for once showing a petulant childish side which he usually kept hidden behind his badass rep, "... not America's Next Top Model..."

Kurt giggled as he smirked at the half-back before turning back to the screen,

"And it's a double bill too..."

"Just, kill me now...", muttered the jock as the opening credits began to roll.

* * *

**A/N: I aim to release a chapter a week I think on this new fic, as I say I have most of it mapped out if not actually written. What I'm releasing now is the stuff I've had written for several weeks now.**

**I hope you enjoy and please help save the fairies and REVIEW!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own rights to any of the characters from Glee. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the second chapter, I'm glad to see that this fic is being enjoyed.**

**Season Two Spoilers abound in this story, you have been warned.**

**"Cuffed"** **by The Jellybaby Bandit **

**Chapter Three**

* * *

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon by the time that the end credits on ANTM rolled signalling that the show had finished. Kurt could have probably gone without watching the show, but the chance to torture _the_ Noah Puckerman - not to mention the chance to get away with it - didn't present itself every day.

'_I am nothing if not an opportunist...'_

As Kurt fished out the remote from where he'd stashed it down the side of the couch and pressed the mute button however, the soprano voiced the one question that had been bugging him ever since they'd sat down nearly two hours earlier.

"So - exactly how did you know?"

Puck's head snapped up from where the jock had been lightly dozing, his attention span not being sufficiently held by two hours of bitchy models competing against each other even if they _were_ hot.

"Know what?", slurred the jock as he dragged his free hand down his face and tried to ignore the fact he'd been drooling into his shoulder and that there was a tell-tale wet spot on his tee.

"What America's Next Top Model was...", prompted Kurt tilting his head as the jock ducked his head and looked suddenly embarrassed.

It was strange for the brunette to think that Puck could even _be_ embarrassed, after all Kurt had never considered that Puck had actual normal human emotions. For as long as he'd known him, Puck had been the same brash, obnoxious bully - to find that the jock could even comprehend embarrassment was a major revelation.

"Uh...", replied the jock still looking very uncomfortable, "... my Mom works shifts, so I look after my sister a lot?..."

Kurt raised an eyebrow at the way that Puck had worded the statement, almost like he was testing out his response to see whether Kurt was willing to accept the answer or not.

The soprano however was too shocked to do anything but stare dumbfounded at the half-back. Kurt had in one way or another known Puck for years and in all that time, he had never for a moment heard the jock refer to having any siblings. Ever.

"You have a sister?", said Kurt a horrible image of a young girl with massively overdeveloped arms and a mohawk springing into his minds eye.

* * *

Puck could hear the surprise in Kurt's tone of voice. It wasn't a shock to the half-back that Kurt didn't know about Sarah. There were very few things in his life that Puck would consider to be worth protecting, family however was definitely one of them, the other was his vintage t-shirt collection.

It had taken a lot of delicate balancing, finding the right level between being a good son and brother, loving his family and maintaining his badass rep. However the jock had had years of practice which meant he had perfected it.

If Puck had to describe it, he'd have likened it to there being two separate Pucks, as schizophrenic as that sounded. There was 'public' Puck, who was loud and brash and essentially the Puck that everyone knew and was in awe of and then there was 'private' Puck, who was considerate and kind and who loved his family deeply. Of course the danger was that if anyone knew that 'private' Puck existed then 'public' Puck would have his rep destroyed, so the jock had protected the separation fiercely.

Seeing that Kurt was still awaiting an answer, the jock replied,

"Uh - yeah, Sarah...", replied the half-back running his free hand over his mohawk but unable to keep the soft smile from appearing on his face, "... she's eight."

"You - you never mention her...", said Kurt softly, suddenly aware that the atmosphere in the darkened den was extremely intimate with nothing but the flicker of the TV screen washing over the pair as they sat side by side on the couch.

Puck considered what to say. If he continued on this line of interrogation then Kurt was bound to find out his secret, that he wasn't as badass as he made out he was.

_'That was unacceptable...'_

But then again - would it really do any harm? If Puck failed to convince Kurt to stay at McKinley, then they'd likely never see him again or at the very least only sporadically and the jock's secret would be safe.

And if he somehow, Puck did manage to convince Kurt to stay, the brunette wasn't a gossip whore like the rest of the Glee girls, Puck was sure that Kurt would keep his confidence if he asked. The smaller boy just had this air about him that made you want to trust him.

"It's... it's alright...", said Kurt laying his cuffed hand on Puck's thigh which the jock just stared at making no move to remove, "... if you don't want to talk about it."

Puck shook himself from his self-doubt, self-doubt was for pussies as he spoke,

"It's... fine. I just - keep that part private y'know?"

Puck glanced up to meet Kurt's eyes and saw in them a mix of acceptance and surprise.

_'Kurt Hummel... meet the real Noah Puckerman...'_

* * *

Kurt was surprised, and also strangely pleased for some reason, to realise that there appeared to be some previously undiscovered depth to the jock. Perhaps, if Puck wasn't quite so 'Puckish' the weekend chained together wouldn't be a complete write-off after all.

"So what's she like?..", asked Kurt watching as the jock smiled again obviously picturing his sister in his minds eye. Being an only child himself, Kurt had never understood the sibling dynamic, though he had longed when he was younger for a brother or a sister. Kurt remembered vividly a conversation he'd been party to when he was just four years old, when his Mom had sat him down and explained that her sickness meant she couldn't give Kurt a brother or sister to love.

At the time of course, Kurt was too young to truly comprehend and recalled asking,

"_If I'm really good and do all my chores and ask Jesus to ask Santa to ask the Stork, would he send me a brother or sister?"_

To this day, the soprano remembered the stricken expression on his Mom's face as she'd had to say no.

* * *

Puck didn't actually know how to start, where to start. Nobody had ever sat down with him and asked him what Sarah was like, the jock had never let anyone get close enough to him to be _able_ to ask.

Finn knew about Sarah of course, years of his coming round and playing Xbox meant that the Quarterback couldn't help but know. But even with Finn and as close as the pair had been - at least before the jock had slept with Quinn and that friendship had been shot to pieces - it was understood that Sarah was off limits.

Puck cleared his throat as he raised his eyes to meet the brunette's inquisitive gaze,

"She's nothing like me...", the jock couldn't stop the smirk from appearing on his face as he spoke, "... she's small, a midget really, she has this long blonde hair that she insists has to be braided or in bunches and she's smart, like scary, she's-going-to-find-a-way-to take-over-the-world smart. I'm Pinky to her Brain y'know?"

Kurt giggled at Puck's childish but clearly honest assessment of his relationship with Sarah and watched as the jock became more and more animated the longer that he talked. The soprano was gaining an insight into Noah Puckerman that he had never before imagined would exist, never mind be possible.

"She can twist you around her little finger and have you doing anything she wants, just with a fluttering of her eyelashes. She's..."

Puck paused for breath before shutting his jaw with an audible click and fought against the unexpected urge to blush. The jock had not intended to launch into as impassioned an explanation as he had done.

_'Stupid Hummel...'_

"She sounds adorable...", said Kurt speaking up and allowing the jock to control his moment of embarrassment without comment, "... thank you for telling me about her."

Puck cleared his throat before his mask fell back into place once again and the regular half-back was back in control. Offering the soprano a curt nod, Puck tried to direct the conversation away from the uncomfortable bearing his soul bit they'd been on in the past few minutes.

"So... any fashion-challenged siblings kept locked in the basement Hummel?"

The jock didn't understand what was so amusing about that question as Kurt snorted and began to giggle. Puck huffed and attempted to cross his arms over his chest only for his scowl to deepen even more when he realised he couldn't do so because of the cuffs.

"No... my bedroom _is_ the basement...", said Kurt whilst trying to stifle his giggles which wasn't easy given Puck had tried to cross his arms and had pulled the soprano's hand away from his mouth,"... if anything, I _am_ the sibling locked in the basement - though I'm not 'fashion-challenged thank you very much...'"

Puck was about to reply to the still giggling soprano just as a yawn overtook the smaller boy. The jock fished his cell out of his pocket and checked the time before realising that he must have missed a text coming in. Checking the sender, Puck smirked before putting the cell back in his pocket - he'd deal with that later. For now though the jock had just realised something, something which he could probably use to tease Kurt.

"So... how is this going to work?", asked Puck as he absently scratched his abs through his tee.

Kurt stopped giggling and looked at the half-back while trying to ignore the strip of skin tantalisingly poking out above the jock's jeans.

Mistaking the soprano's silence for confusion Puck clarified,

"Sleeping arrangements Kurt..."

* * *

_'Oh crap'_

Kurt's stomach dropped. The brunette hadn't considered for a second how they were going to deal with sleeping arrangements - after all when someone handcuffs themself to you the last thing you think about is 'who's spooning who?'.

Puck would no doubt have no issues with sleeping in close proximity to another person, after all this _was_ Noah Puckerman they were talking about. Kurt however, had never shared a bed with another person in his life and the soprano had never in his wildest dreams imagined he'd share a bed with Puck first. Well - that wasn't true Kurt admitted sheepishly, he'd had the dreams but that's all they were - he could do without being psychoanalysed thank you.

The only exception Kurt could recall had been when he was little and had developed an irrational fear that Rush Limbaugh was in his closet. On those occasions where it was just too creepy to sleep by himself, despite his Dad's protestations that he was a 'big boy now' and shouldn't be afraid, Kurt would crawl into bed between his sleeping parents.

Thankfully the soprano had grown out of that particular nightmare, somehow the soprano thought his Dad might object if he were to crawl into bed beside him now.

"Uh...", Kurt stalled for time as he tried to figure out what to do, he couldn't very well force Puck to sleep on the floor beside the bed - that would mean his arm would be dragged out into the air and Kurt hated not being completely under the covers when asleep.

_'Stupid jock and his stupid handcuffs...'_

Kurt sighed and rubbed at his eyes in irritation - there was no easy solution. Resignation in his tone, the soprano mumbled his reply,

"I suppose we'll just have to sleep together..."

* * *

Puck snorted at the double entendre causing the soprano to re-evaluate his words and blush deeply,

"Why Hummel..." crowed the jock thoroughly enjoying Kurt's discomfiture, "... chained to me for just a few hours and already you want a taste of Puckzilla... not that I blame you..."

Kurt shook off his embarrassment and wrinkled his nose in disgust at the jock,

"There will be no _tasting_ of anything..."

Puck shrugged off the dismissal with consummate ease as he smirked at the brunette, getting a rise out of Kurt was surprisingly entertaining. It was like a sport that Puck was just very very good at – he should get a medal or some shit – advanced Hummel baiting, it could be an Olympic sport.

Puck watched as Kurt was overtaken by yet another yawn,

"Don't think I'm carrying your ass anywhere if you fall asleep Hummel...", warned the jock, "... I'll bounce you down the basement steps if I have to..."

* * *

Kurt had dragged Puck around the house as he systematically switched off all of the lights and then they had descended to the basement. All the while Puck made off colour remarks about their sleeping together, spooning together and so on - it was serving only to make Kurt more anxious the closer to his bedroom he got.

Truly it felt like Kurt was walking to his own funeral. The final march to his doom. The -

"Oh quit being such a chick about it..."

Kurt turned an ineffectual glare on the jock as the soprano realised that he'd been muttering under his breath. Puck just knew instinctively how to get under Kurt's skin and it was really starting to have a profound effect on the brunette's psyche, even after only a few hours. Lord knows what the full weekend was going to do to his sanity.

"Bite me...", snapped Kurt not appreciating the 'chick' comment – the soprano was sick and tired of being lumped in with the girls - he wasn't one and had no interest in being one. It really rankled with him that people assumed just because he liked boys that he'd automatically want to be a girl. He didn't, he quite liked his penis thank you.

Puck quirked an eyebrow at the brunette as his wrist was jerked almost causing him to lose balance and fall down the basement stairs - Puck still had the wherewithal however even as he stumbled to be able to land a final shot,

"I'll only bite if you're a good boy..."

Kurt ignored the small voice in the back of his mind suggesting that maybe he'd like it as he yanked the jock down the last few steps.

"God you're disgusting..."

* * *

Puck chuckled as he was unceremoniously dragged into Kurt's bedroom. The half-back glanced left and right before letting out an impressed whistle.

"Swish...", said the jock.

Kurt sat himself down on the edge of his bed and pulled open a drawer before he began to root around in his chest of drawers.

"Ah-hah...", cried the soprano as he pulled out a pair of red satin pyjamas that wouldn't have looked out of place on one of the Kardashian sisters.

Puck just raised an eyebrow at the brunette,

"I am _not_ wearing those..."

Kurt rolled his eyes as he shucked off his shoes,

"They're for me you moron..."

The soprano moved to unbutton his own shirt before pausing in shock as Puck replied chuckling at his rhyming,

"Good, cos Puckzilla likes the breeze, I sleep in the nude dude.."

* * *

_'Oh God, Oh God, Oh God...'_

Kurt's brain had frozen. There was no way, there was just no way that the soprano could possibly share a bed with a naked Puck. Well there was, but that way led madness and sweaty palms and it just didn't bear thinking about. Kurt had never even properly kissed a boy for crying out loud, and now he'd have to share a bed with a naked one? It was too much. It was all just too much.

_'No thinking about naked Puck, no thinking about naked Puck - crap I'm thinking about naked Puck...'_

Puck watched with no small amount of amusement as Kurt's breathing began to get faster and shallower as the panic set in. There was something extremely satisfying in seeing Hummel all breathless and red in the face, if he had been a chick Puck would have likened Hummel's current state with looking like he'd just been well fucked, but well, Hummel wasn't a chick and the jock really didn't want to go there.

* * *

Kurt swallowed around his tongue as he tried to regain his equilibrium and banish the images of naked Puck from his mind's eye. The soprano affected a mockery of a nonplussed expression as he cleared his throat and replied,

"Uh... really?"

Kurt cursed as his voice squeaked belying the cool exterior he'd tried to project.

Puck winked lasciviously at the soprano and sat himself down on the bed beside the smaller boy, their shoulders inadvertently rubbing together.

"I know what you're thinking... you've gone and won the lottery... well it's your lucky day Hummel..."

Kurt flinched at the momentary contact of Puck's shoulder as if he'd been electrocuted by a live wire and jerked to his feet dragging Puck off balance once again. The soprano's mind was working overtime conjuring up images of Puck's naked shoulder rubbing against his own and that was definitely a visual the brunette didn't need.

_'Oh God, Oh God, Oh God...'_

* * *

Puck chuckled at the fully-blown panic that the soprano had descended into. As much as the half-back would have enjoyed prolonging Kurt's suffering, if the brunette were to faint or whatever it'd just be an inconvenience and he was no doubt heavy.

"Hummel...", Kurt was almost catatonic and failed to respond to the half-back's voice, "... Hummel... KURT!"

The soprano jumped and faced the jock who was still sitting smirking from his seat on the bed.

"I'll sleep in my boxers 'K? Don't have a heart attack..."

Puck's voice trailed off as he realised his faux pas and for once actually did feel regret as Kurt's face closed off and his eyes dulled,

"Very funny..."

_'Shit Puck, his Dad has a heart attack and you go say that? Idiot...'_

"Jeez dude, I'm sorry..."

Kurt shook his head and mumbled,

"Whatever..."

The damage however was done.

* * *

Several seconds of uncomfortable silence passed before Puck cleared his throat and spoke again,

"Uh... Kurt?"

The soprano sighed and turned to look at the jock as he shut the drawer he'd retrieved his sleepwear from. The expression on his face was one of weariness,

"What now?"

Puck pushed himself to his feet as he replied,

"I need to pee..."

* * *

Kurt's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as he realised the predicament. Cuffed together such as they were, the boys couldn't shower alone, or use the bathroom without the other being there to bear witness.

What was going to happen when Kurt wanted to use the bathroom? He certainly had no intentions of going if Puck could see him, not to mention hear him.

A moment of inspiration hit the brunette as he nodded and turned back to the chest of drawers. Pulling open the top drawer Kurt mumbled to himself as he rummaged around,

"C'mon, c'mon, it has to be here... ah hah!"

With a cry of triumph Kurt pulled from the drawer a small black lump of fabric which he laid on the chest top before he returned to rummaging once again,

"C'mon... I know I saw it in here... YES!"

Puck watched on in confusion as Kurt pulled a little yellow packet from the drawer and placed it beside the lump already laid out.

Kurt scooped up both and turned to face the half-back,

"Bottom line, I am not going to the bathroom with you able to either see or hear me..."

Puck rolled his eyes as Kurt pressed the items against the jock's chest leaving the jock with no option but to grab them with his free hand.

"A blindfold?", asked Puck in surprise, "... why Hummel you _are_ kinky!"

Kurt blushed deeply before replying stringently,

"It's a sleep mask not a blindfold and it's for you to wear..., " Puck scowled and was about to object when Kurt interrupted him, "... I'm in charge remember?"

The half-back grumbled and threw the offending piece of elasticated fabric down on the bed beside him. Examining the little yellow packet further Puck couldn't hold back the chuckle as he read the instructions,

"Earplugs Hummel? Exactly how much noise do you make when taking a shit?"

Kurt wrinkled his nose in disgust as the jock chuckled at the brunette who muttered,

"That's just gross..."

"I'm not wearing it...", said Puck resolutely ignoring the gimlet eye from the soprano.

"I'm in charge remember?", replied the soprano.

Puck shrugged off the reminder as he stood his ground,

"I don't care... I'm not doing it."

Kurt sighed and looked disappointed before straightening up and saying cheerfully,

"Alright then, let's go call my Dad, I'm sure he'll be happy to help break these cuffs and we can go our separate ways..."

Puck tried to resist the insistent tugging on his arm as Kurt tried to move them towards the basement stairs, leaning back on his heels like he was in a tug of war. Kurt had called his bluff, and expertly so, leaving the half-back stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"Alright, alright... I give, you win...", the insistent tugging ceased and a smug Kurt turned to face the jock.

"See how much easier things are if you just do what I say when I say it?"

Puck scowled and slipped the mask and earplugs into his jeans pocket - he really needed to pee now and arguing any longer was only going to result in nothing more than a scolding for ruining the brunette's carpet.

"So where's the bathroom?"

Kurt gestured to a door behind the jock which he had not noticed at first. The pair made their way over to the doorway, both trying to fit through the narrow space at once before Kurt hip-checked the larger boy into the door frame and squeezed through.

* * *

Puck took in the décor of the well appointed bathroom, marble counter tops, a double sink - wait...

"Dude your toilet's tiny..."

Kurt glanced at the jock's expression and rolled his eyes while stifling a giggle, Puck looked almost human when he was confused.

"That's a bidet Puck..."

The jock looked even more confused at the explanation and it was all Kurt could do not to laugh at the taller boy.

"That French for 'tiny toilet' or somethin'?"

Kurt giggled and pointed wordlessly to the normal sized toilet in the corner behind a waist high screening wall,

"Oh...", said Puck feeling foolish for thinking Kurt had a midget-toilet, "... then what?..."

Kurt reached up on his tiptoes and whispered softly into Puck's ear the mechanics behind the bidet,

"Ewww, that's just gross dude..."

Kurt giggled as Puck dragged them away from the bidet and over to the toilet in the corner as he reached for his flies,

"Blindfold...", prompted Kurt steadfastly staring at the patterned tiles.

* * *

Puck paused with his hand on his flies and looked at the brunette in incredulity, surely Kurt couldn't mean what the jock thought he meant.

"You want me to pee while blindfolded? What do you think I am, some kind of circus freak? Wait don't answer that..."

Kurt couldn't help the small giggle that escaped him at the thought as he glanced at the jock and satisfied that he had yet to unzip made eye contact,

"For me not you..."

Puck shrugged unconcerned and unzipped causing Kurt to blush and look away hurriedly. The jock sighed in relief a moment later as a tinkling sound echoed off the tiles.

* * *

Given the choice, Kurt would have plugged his fingers in his ears and sang but he didn't have the use of both hands and so couldn't. So he did what any hormone plagued teenager would do, he snuck a glance.

_'Holy crap..._'

Puck's chuckling caused Kurt's head to snap up to meet the half-back's eyes as the jock asked drolly,

"Holy crap?"

_'God just kill me now.._'

Kurt ducked his head and screwed his eyes shut in mortification - at least now Puck would likely want to get the cuffs taken off if only to get away from his lecherous staring. He was a freak, a sick freak who stared at boys while they were in the bathroom.

"Kurt? You OK dude?"

Kurt shook his head afraid to speak as his ears picked up on the sound of Puck's fly being refastened. The soprano didn't even pick up on the fact that Puck didn't sound angry.

Kurt cursed the fact that he was handcuffed for the umpteenth time that evening, what the soprano would really have liked at that moment was to be able to run away. Run far far away.

"Hey, don't worry about it 'K?"

Puck laid a hand on Kurt's shoulder and felt the tension in the smaller boy's frame. The half-back had realised early on that Kurt had snuck a look at him and truthfully he didn't really mind. Puck was mindful of the fact that Kurt probably hadn't had the opportunity to see another dude's cock other than in porn movies. Even back when Kurt had been kicker under Coach Tanaka, the brunette had been careful about making sure he was the last into the shower, long after the rest of the jocks had finished.

Puck had always just figured that Kurt must have had a baby cock or something, but now the half-back had to consider that it was probably because Kurt thought the other jocks would object to his presence more than anything else.

The jock understood completely the curiosity and it wasn't as though Puck didn't have plenty to be proud of. So what if Kurt was a dude and he'd snuck a peek at his junk - as long as he didn't try to grab it without permission it was all cool with him.

"Please let me out of the cuffs..."

The voice was so soft that Puck almost missed it and he had to take a second to process it. It sounded so unlike the Kurt Hummel that Puck had come to know since the pair had joined Glee Club. It was just another thing that had changed over recent months, the strong will that had previously typified the brunette had been stomped on leaving behind this fragile shell of a person.

"No. I don't think I will."

Kurt's head was down-turned and Puck was aware from the vibration in his free arm that the smaller boy was on the verge of tears.

"Look at me, Kurt."

Puck knew before he'd uttered the phrase that Kurt would shake his head in the negative. The half-back reached out with his free hand and gently tilted the soprano's face up to meet his gaze. The urge to rub away the tears on Kurt's lashes was overpowering and so that was exactly what Puck did, running the pad of his thumb over the smaller boy's eyelids. Something primal, deep within Puck's chest screamed at him to soothe the smaller boy's pain – and it was definitely pain. Pain of rejection, pain of being different, pain of being hated for something he couldn't control and shouldn't have to apologise for.

"You didn't do anything wrong...", said Puck softly.

Kurt's eyes held a clear doubt about the truthfulness of Puck's statement, the jock wasn't sure however how to prove to the smaller boy that he didn't mind.

"I'm sorry... I shouldn't have... I didn't mean...", said Kurt dropping his eyes unable to meet the jock's gaze. This new Puck had thrown Kurt off balance, the soprano had been sure that he was going to face retribution, not immediate forgiveness.

"Sure ya did...", said Puck cutting the soprano off with a chuckle, "... and it's OK. If I were gay and you were the proud owner of Puckzilla, I'd sure as hell look... I'd not get _caught_ though, dude that's just dumb..."

Kurt's eyes snapped up to meet the half-backs in disbelief,

"Who are you and what did you do with Puck?"

Puck chuckled watching as his carefree stance seemed to be reassuring to the smaller boy. Another yawn overtook the soprano, this time leaving Puck unable to do anything other than mirror the action. Placing a comforting hand on Kurt's shoulder, the jock steered the smaller boy back out in the direction of the bedroom.

"C'mon, let's get ready for bed..."

* * *

**A/N: OK folks, that's chapter three. I realise that not much in terms of exciting plot is happening, there are no arguments, no murders, etc as in my prior fics. I'm going to be concentrating on developing an attraction between the two boys and the timeframes within each of my chapters is no more than a few hours. **

**Still, I hope you continue to enjoy. I will update again within about a week.**

**PLEASE REVIEW**

**XD**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own rights to any of the characters from Glee. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

**A/N: Another chapter up and ready to go. Thank you as always to those who have encouraged me to write faster by leaving me kind reviews. Each and every one is appreciated. For those who wonder, yes I am still working on my other stories and I will get to them eventually - my muse just takes weird directions is all... new directions I guess you could say XD  
**

"**Cuffed"** **by The Jellybaby Bandit**

**Chapter Four**

* * *

Kurt could literally feel the heat emanating from his face as he tried to put 'Puckzilla-gate' behind him. The soprano had made such a fool of himself. Kurt couldn't believe that he'd gone and ogled Puck's junk in such an obvious way.

Ever since he'd realised he was 'different' to the other boys, Kurt had fastidiously maintained a façades of disinterest when it came to undressed male bodies around him. Mostly that was for self-preservation. After all if a particularly muscular but homophobic jock caught Kurt looking at him – as the soprano had been convinced would be the case with Puck just moments earlier – the result was likely to require stitches and a trip to the emergency room.

Puck had, to Kurt's eternal surprise, been gracious enough to have laughed his actions off. The soprano however wasn't prepared to be so laid back about it - it was - it was wrong was what it was. Kurt had gawked at the jock with absolutely no subtlety – and no permission - and now he just felt plain awful about it.

* * *

Puck might not have been the brightest spark in the history of the universe, but even to the half-back it was clear that Kurt was uncomfortable.

Yes the jock had laughed off Kurt's sudden 'interest' in all things Puckzilla. That hadn't of course been Puck's initial reaction, it was just the one that he'd let Kurt see.

At first, well... as much as Puck wanted to pretend otherwise, he – well he kinda _liked_ the attention.

Now Puck was straight – that wasn't the issue – it wasn't being stared at hungrily by a guy that the jock enjoyed. It was -

_'Ah hell...'_

Ever since his return from Juvie, Puck had been trying to remould himself. He'd started hitting up Lauren and that got him a big fat zip in the loving department. The effortless Puckzilla mojo which had pretty much carried the half-back up until that point seemed to be losing it's effectiveness. Quinn wouldn't touch him, not with their history, Santana was just too toxic these days to even consider a viable option and Brittany was just too obsessed with Artie to even consider having a roll in the hay behind the wheelchair bound boy's back.

Eventually it seemed, the good girls – which Puck preferred to pursue as they tended to be the nasty ones in bed – got wise to him and wanted to be treated right. Being treated right meant leaving Puck behind as they moved on to someone knew.

It sucked being alone.

* * *

Kurt was grateful for Puck's sudden respectful silence. In times gone by the jock would have lorded Kurt's slip over him, or beaten him into a pulp. The fact that he'd just shrugged it off _confused_ Kurt no end.

The soprano remained silent as they headed back out of the bathroom and into the bedroom proper. Picking up his pyjamas from the edge of the large queen size bed, Kurt rolled the soft fabric in his hands before a horrifying realisation struck the soprano.

"I can't get undressed...", said Kurt his voice soft.

Kurt chanced a quick glance in the jock's direction, daring to meet the taller boy's eyes for the first time in several minutes. Puck was busy slipping off his sneakers as he spared the brunette a confused look.

"Sure ya can... it's easy... you just -..."

"No...", said Kurt his voice regaining some of its former strength with the passage of time, "... I _can't _get undressed...".

As if to reinforce his statement, Kurt raised his hand and waved the cuffs in front of the jock's face.

* * *

"Oh..."

Puck tilted his head to the side as he attempted to absorb the soprano's meaning but it was abundantly clear, they were handcuffed together meaning there was no way to remove their shirts.

_'Well damn...'_, Puck hadn't considered that particular problem.

"Uh... I guess you're right..", said the jock scratching the top of his head in the manner he did when he was mulling over a complicated puzzle, or a menu choice at Breadstix.

"Of course I'm right...", said Kurt sending the jock a look to suggest that the soprano was _always_right and that the statement was redundant.

Puck considered the problem in front of him before arriving at a solution,

"RIIIIIP..."

* * *

Kurt's jaw fell open.

Puck had reached up to the collar of his tee and in one fluid motion had parted the fabric like it wasn't there.

And oh my God...

_'Do not stare... naked Puck... oh God this weekend is going to kill me..._'

Kurt squeaked girlishly and averted his eyes as Puck threw the the scraps of his tee down onto the bed. The soprano kept his gaze fixed this time on a spot on the far wall as he heard the unmistakeable sound of the half-back's belt buckle being unfastened and the fly on his jeans being once more unzipped.

Several seconds passed with the sounds of rustling fabric and the jock grunting occasionally before Kurt chanced a glance back in Puck's direction. The taller boy was standing, dressed in nothing but his boxers and looking supremely pleased with himself for some reason.

"That's your big solution...", asked Kurt his voice shaky as he tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach at the sight of Puck's admittedly very well defined chest, "... destroy your only shirt? Are you mental?"

Kurt's jaw snapped shut as his voice went shrill at the end of his sentence and he tried to control the forming blush on his cheeks.

'_My God would you look at those-... No! Stop it, stop it, stop it...'_

This was bad. This was very bad.

* * *

Puck paused before he realised that, bitchy though it undoubtedly was, Kurt had a valid point.

_'And dammit that was a one of my favourite shirts too...'_

Puck wasn't about to admit any of that to the brunette though. Affecting a neutral expression the jock shrugged and looked unconcerned.

"It worked didn't it?"

* * *

Kurt just rolled his eyes at the jock though and didn't even deign to get embroiled in a discussion about how stupid that response was. Puck's lack of assistance though was exactly what the brunette had expected though, he was clearly happy with his solution.

"Well that might solve your predicament but exactly how does it help me?...", said Kurt thumbing the fabric of his sleeve as a sorrowful look crossed his features, "... this is an Alexander McQueen _original_ there is more chance of my turning straight than damaging this shirt..."

* * *

Puck held his ground and said nothing. After all the half-back hadn't an alternative plan so there was nothing to say. Puck expected that if he kept silent for a few seconds that Kurt would fold and just agree to the plan.

What the half-back had never considered however was that Kurt would capitulate and look for all the world like he was about to cry.

_'Ah Hell...'_

"What the Hell Hummel?", said Puck actually concerned that the smaller boy was about to begin bawling. The jock had enough experience with Sarah and her temper tantrums to know that a chick being emotional enough to cry wasn't a good thing for his own personal health – and Kurt was essentially a chick with a dick right?

* * *

Kurt sniffed and withdrew a handkerchief from his top pocket before blowing his nose loudly.

"I... please can we take the cuffs off - I can't... it's an original... please..."

Puck sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

What the Hell had happened to him all of a sudden to make Kurt Hummel fucking pouting so god damn annoying? So much so that the jock felt compelled to be _nice_to the soprano in order to make those damn pouty lips go away. This was some fucked up shit.

Puck reached his free hand out towards the stricken soprano only to stop in surprise as Kurt flinched and ducked away instinctively.

"What the Hell Hummel?", said the jock for the second time in as many minutes.

Now the jock had a better question – exactly what the Hell had Karofsky been doing to Kurt that the half-back had been unaware of. Kurt had never before been the type of person to shrink away in fear of anything. Sure Puck was aware that Karofsky had been giving Kurt a hard time but the half-back hadn't ever imagined that it involved physical violence – which the soprano's reaction seemed to indicate.

The thought made Puck angry.

* * *

Kurt sniffed before realising what exactly he'd done - the brunette was ashamed of himself to be jumping at shadows. This was what Karofsky had driven him to though, Kurt had been reduced to a nervous wreck.

"Sorry... I just... sorry...", said the brunette, unable to meet the taller boy's gaze.

Puck it seemed though, wasn't prepared to just let it go as Kurt had hoped.

* * *

"No. Apology _not_ accepted – what the Hell was that Hummel?"

Kurt flinched again at the tone of the half-back's voice causing Puck to pause and sigh. The last thing Puck wanted to do was drive Kurt even further away – then there'd be no chance of his changing his mind about leaving McKinley.

Instead, the jock nudged Kurt back until the smaller boy's legs impacted the side of the bed and caused him to sit down.

Taking up a position beside Kurt, Puck waited a few seconds for the brunette to gather himself before he spoke quietly,

"You thought I was going to hit you."

There was no accusation in the statement, it was a statement of fact borne out by Kurt's clear reaction. If anything, the non-verbal response received from the brunette – of the smaller boy's shoulders hitching – was all of the evidence Puck needed anyway.

Again, several seconds passed in shared silence before Puck sighed once again.

"I... I just don't get it Hummel...", said Puck reaching out to the smaller boy before checking himself and letting his hand drop uselessly back to his lap, "... Why didn't you say anything? You know? To Finn? Or Schue? Or Hell, even to me?"

Kurt snorted before he replied, his voice thick with emotion that the brunette was desperately trying to suppress.

"It wouldn't have made any difference. It wouldn't have stopped him -...", said Kurt his voice unable to hide the bitterness to his tone, "... _you_ wouldn't have stopped him..."

* * *

Puck didn't know quite how to answer that accusation. And the jock was in no doubt that it was an accusation. Kurt was saying 'you knew and yet you did nothing'. Puck remembered a saying about evil and good man and some shit.

It was true. He had known. He knew that Karofsky was targeting Kurt. The jock didn't know why exactly, but just knowing should have been enough to make him step in. He'd failed in that respect and it had driven Kurt to the only option he felt he had available to him. To leave.

"Just forget it...", said the brunette as the half-back remained silent and deep in thought.

Puck shook himself out of his recriminations but it was clear by the time that he'd tuned back in that Kurt had used the intervening seconds to shutter his emotions. The half-back cursed as he realised the soprano wouldn't be opening up again any time soon.

Focusing back on the problem of their being cuffed together, Puck came to a decision, something that he hoped would go some way towards repairing the strained relationship that had developed in the past few minutes.

Puck reached past the brunette who ignored the taller boy entirely in favour of staring morosely at the floor and snatched up a stray hair clip which had been lying on top of the vanity.

Biting his lip in concentration Puck inserted the end of the clip into his cuff and with a quick twist, the metal arms parted with a dull click and fell to dangle between the pair.

* * *

Kurt looked up in shock. He was – he was free – wait – he was free?

_'That rat bastard...'_

The brunette turned an accusing glare on the jock who squirmed in his seat looking uncomfortable,

"What?", said Puck defensively before adding as if it explained everything, "... I'm me remember?..."

Kurt couldn't fight the smile on his face despite his annoyance at seeing the affronted look on the half-back's face. Of course, this was Puck – the brunette had never considered that even without a key, Puck would be able to pick a lock on some handcuffs without breaking a sweat.

_'Forget that though, I'm free!'_

The brunette forgot about his annoyance with the taller boy and instead in a moment that he would later characterise as madness enveloped the larger boy in a grateful hug.

"Hey...", protested a startled half-back, "... what gives?"

Kurt pulled back from the hug, his eyes once again sparkling and happy – whether at the fact that he could now shower without having to ruin his outfit or at the fact he was uncuffed entirely the jock wasn't sure.

"I... just thanks, I guess...", said Kurt suddenly feeling sheepish for having been so familiar with the taller boy, "... but what about..."

Puck smirked causing Kurt's stomach to roil. Puck smirking would not lead to good things the brunette decided.

Kurt kept silent and braced himself for whatever bomb the half-back was sure to drop.

* * *

"Here's the deal...", said Puck rubbing his wrist where the metal had begun to bite into his tender flesh, "... I'll uncuff us but we're staying close together all weekend."

Puck raised his hand and forestalled Kurt's expected outburst and paused when the brunette just nodded in acceptance.

"What? No bitching? No moaning? No calling me an asshole and telling me to get the Hell out?", asked Puck smirking at the soprano.

* * *

Kurt shrugged and stood to cross to his dresser, the soprano kept his back to the taller boy as he replied,

"I know you won't leave if I ask, so why would I bother?"

_'Or do you not want him to leave?...",_ added the traitorous voice in Kurt's head.

The brunette remained silent as he picked up a cotton bud and his cleanser and busied himself with an abbreviated evening skin routine,

"How close is close exactly?", asked Kurt as he angled the mirror so he could see Puck in the reflection while he cleansed.

"I'm not leaving you alone for a second if that's what you think...", confirmed the jock as Kurt groaned, even uncuffed it appeared the soprano was still going to have to shower and sleep in close proximity to the half-back. "... our deal still stands, I have til Monday. If you don't like it I'll just cuff us again, you know I could..."

Kurt rolled his eyes and threw a cotton ball into the trash as he asked,

"You do know you're not going to convince me don't you? All of this is a waste of both yours and my time."

"We'll see...", said Puck as he shuffled back on the bed to sit against the headboard and drew out his cell.

* * *

By the time Kurt had changed – thankfully alone in the bathroom, with Puck's reluctant permission of course – it was after 11 and the soprano was bushed. It had been a stressful day to say the least. What Kurt wanted most in the world was to just curl up under his duvet and sleep for a week.

Of course, that was unlikely considering the brunette wasn't alone.

Kurt padded over to the bed – another thing which Puck had insisted upon was that they'd share – and toed off his slippers before crawling under the covers with a contented sigh.

Puck was still it seemed still on his phone sending messages and though he probably wouldn't want to know the answer, Kurt was too naturally curious not to ask who the jock was talking with.

"Who you texting?"

Puck grunted a reply out as he studied a new message which had obviously just arrived,

"Not texting – sexting – Santana..."

Kurt wrinkled his nose in disgust at the thought that the taller boy was swapping intimate and graphic texts while less than a couple of feet from him – in bed too!

"You had better not think about doing y'know...", warned the brunette nodding his head in the direction of the jock's crotch, "... even with earplugs and a sleep mask I don't want to imagine that..."

Puck glanced up from the screen of his cell and replied,

"Don't think there's much chance of that... Santana's being a frigid bitch."

Kurt snorted as he shuffled back against the headboard and tried to get comfortable,

"You'd know more about the frigid bit that I would but Santana's _always_ a bitch..."

Puck's rumbling chuckle vibrated through the mattress as the jock replied,

"Yeah I guess you're right... but she's a hot frigid bitch, when she's not being y'know a _frigid_ frigid bitch..."

Kurt rolled his eyes at the jock,

"Eloquent as always Noah... you should have a tee shirt made 'I like my frigid bitches like I like my coffee... _hot_...'"

"Shove it Hummel...", said the jock good naturedly bumping the smaller boy with his shoulder.

The soprano would never understand the heterosexual urge to seek female companionship, especially when that companion was Santana Lopez. Now seeking companionship with Neil Patrick Harris_ that_ Kurt could understand perfectly. That week when Mr Ryan took over Glee club was still one of Kurt's best memories, the brunette maintained that Mr Ryan could have passed as Neil Patrick Harris' twin or at the very least his brother, nobody else seemed to agree with him though which Kurt just thought was plain weird.

_'Hello nummy goodness all the same...'_

* * *

Kurt reached over and plucked up his cell from the bedside table remembering that he had a call of his own to place. One that was bound to be uncomfortable.

The soprano pressed a speed dial button and tapped his foot under the covers while he waited for the call to connect. A part of Kurt didn't want to place the call but if he were to avoid doing so he knew he'd likely damage further his relationship with his best friend.

Considering how he'd made his announcement earlier in the day he wasn't surprised when the line was answered on the first ring.

"Hey 'cedes...", said Kurt desperately trying to make his tone sound positive.

_'Please don't shout at me, please don't shout at me...'_

Kurt ignored the curious look from Puck as he angled himself away from the jock in a self-imposed illusion of privacy. The soprano could have gotten up and left the room of course, but if Puck was truly serious about his five-foot rule – that being the maximum distance the jock was prepared to allow between them til Monday – he'd likely make a fuss.

Quite frankly the last thing Kurt needed was 'cedes making a scene over the fact that he was sharing a bed with Noah Puckerman.

_'Oh God... never think that thought again...'_

"What? Oh, no, no I'm just getting ready for bed..." said Kurt tuning back into the conversation having gotten distracted – at least it seemed as though 'cedes wasn't mad at him, "... yeah... of course we're still on...".

"Like Donkey Kong...", chuckled the jock as he tapped on his cell his eyes fixed on the screen.

Kurt placed his hand over the handset microphone for a second and waited for the jock to look up before he levelled Puck with a fierce warning glare,

"Sorry what was that?...", asked Kurt realising Mercedes was still talking away as if Kurt were still listening, "... no, nobody's here that was just the TV... alright then... Oh, I uh – I almost forgot... I have to bring someone with me 'k? Oh no, nothing like that – where exactly would I find a hot guy in this town? It's just my idiot cousin. Yeah he's here til Monday, I can't shake him... _believe me I've tried_."

Kurt redoubled his warning glare at the pouting jock who clearly hadn't appreciated the new moniker and looked as though he was about to mutiny.

"Uh huh... I will... OK... Well I'll see you tomorrow 'cedes. Night."

Kurt snapped his cell shut and placed it carefully back on the night stand. The brunette was aware of the gaze from the other boy boring into the back of his skull and knew that he was just seconds from the Spanish inquisition.

* * *

"I'm tired...", yawned Kurt as he wriggled further down under the covers and prepared to switch the lights off. He knew of course that Puck would likely want to know what was going on but something inside Kurt wanted to hold onto the secret a little longer.

_'You like seeing Puck frustrated...'_

As Puck laid his cell down on the night stand on his side of the bed and shuffled down beside the brunette, Kurt could feel the heat emanating from the jock's larger body.

"What did you do Hummel?", growled Puck not pleased with being so effectively shut down by the smaller boy.

Puck's stomach dropped as he saw the blossoming wicked smirk on Kurt's face - that didn't bode well. That didn't bode well at all...

"We're going shopping!", said the brunette smiling widely.

* * *

_'Oh Hell naw...'_

Puck jumped as Mercedes loud booming voice rang though his mindscape.

"Just imagine Noah, we can go look at clothes... oh and 'cedes needs new shoes, there were these darling little Louboutins that I would just kill for..."

Puck groaned and tried to ignore the brunette's prattling. Shopping was fine - the jock didn't have a problem with shopping. Puck was a bona fide grand master of the technique of get in, get what you need and get out.

Puck could and _had_ done his entire holiday gift buying in one store in about ten minutes flat.

Shopping with Hummel and Jones? That was bound to be brutal.

_'Remind me why I'm putting myself through this again?'_

The jock groaned and slapped a hand over his eyes,

"Great now I'm going to have nightmares...", he muttered dramatically before rolling over and facing away from the brunette.

Kurt giggled and mimicked the move on his side of the bed before he turned the light off and plunged them into darkness.

"And to think they call _me_ the drama queen..."

* * *

Kurt rolled over and his tired eyes fixed upon the glowing red numbers on his alarm clock -

_'2.22... great...'_

Puck lay beside the brunette, his large muscular arm slung over his eyes as the jock wheezed softly in a repetitive pattern. It was difficult for Kurt not to feel resentment for the half-back – Puck had dropped off to sleep pretty much as soon as the light had been turned off.

Kurt however found he couldn't settle. And strangely it wasn't the fact he was sharing a bed with another boy that was causing the brunette to lose sleep.

Kurt reached out in the darkness and groped around the night stand before his hand fell upon his cell. The soprano carefully drew gadget towards him and flipped it open, careful to shield the sudden bright light from the display from disturbing the sleeping half-back.

There it was, the message that had come in earlier that afternoon. Kurt had shrugged it off at the time, not wanting Puck to see how it had effected him, but the contents had been plaguing the brunette ever since. The soprano didn't know why he hadn't just deleted it and forgotten about it, something in his gut however told him that would be a mistake.

The number was withheld of course, quite how that had been achieved Kurt wasn't sure, but the soprano knew who the message was from - who else _could_ it be from after all? It seemed that transferring to Dalton wasn't going to be enough to dissuade Karofsky from pursuing his vendetta.

What else did Kurt have to do? He'd decided to leave his friends, he'd decided to leave his school, he'd decided to leave everything that ever mattered to him behind - all in order to get away from Karofsky. And now it seemed, the jock just wasn't prepared to let him go.

_'Do I really offend him that much? And if I do why? What did I do?...'_

Puck snuffled and shifted in his sleep causing Kurt to jump in momentary panic and snap his cell shut once more. The meagre light died away and left the soprano once again consumed by the oppressive darkness.

Kurt glanced at the clock yet again as he set his cell back on the night stand with a soft thud,

_'2.24..."_

It was going to be a long night. As Kurt lay there staring at the imagined ceiling that his eyes couldn't quite make out, the words of the text burned behind his eyes so he could read them even without the cell in front of him,

_'You can run but you can't hide...' _

* * *

_**A/N: Ooooooh that was a little ominous even for me! LOL. Things are quieting down somewhat at work so I should be able to increase my output temporarily – it's what allowed me to finish this chapter in the last couple of days. **_

_**Coming up ahead, is shopping with 'cedes, a trip to a honky tonk bar and yes, my favourite thing in all the world drunk!Kurt... tune in next time on "Cuffed".**_

_**PLEASE REVIEW IT MAKES ME FEEL ALL TINGLY IN MY BELLY XD**_


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